


Yule Shoot Your Eye Out

by flyicarus



Category: Captain America (2011), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Christmas, Drabble Collection, F/M, Holidays, M/M, Multi, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyicarus/pseuds/flyicarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas brings all sorts of people together; multi-pairing, all within the MCU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucky/Darcy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of drabbles that I wrote around Christmastime on request for a few of my Tumblr followers. No profit is being made, and it is careful to make the distinction that although I wrote a pairing, it does not mean that I ship it myself.

"I really can't stay," the voice sings, low and sultry, and Bucky stops walking past the tech room in the Avengers mansion. "I've got to go away. This evening has been, so very nice."

 

He takes a few steps back and leans close to the door, hand on the knob, debating whether or not to go in.

 

"My mother will start to worry. My father will be pacing the floor."

 

He opens the door, quiet and easy, and peers in. Darcy something, the girl who helps Jane and Selvig, and the one that Thor has a particular fondness for, always bringing her poptarts, is swaying in the middle of the room, fiddling with the knobs on a piece of machinery he couldn't possibly even attempt to work.

 

He opens the door wider, slides into the room, closing the door behind him silently. He leans against the door, smiling slightly, as he continues to watch Darcy humming and swaying.

 

"Say really, I'd better scurry. Well, maybe just a half a drink more."

 

Darcy reaches up, removes the pencil from her hair, and it falls down her back, a mess of smooth waves and tangles, and Bucky realizes that he's enthralled. He pulls the folder on Captain America against his chest, settles back against the door, and bites his lip, watching as she sways around the room, her back always to him, humming as she checks data, writes down numbers on a notepad she carries under her arm.

 

"I really can't stay, but ah, it's cold, outside," she continues, turning around, pushing her glasses up with one finger as she looks down at the notepad, and she lets out a small shriek when she looks up, finally seeing Bucky. He feels like an idiot, and the shriek sets him on edge, causing him to jump back a little, furrowing his brow.

 

"What's the big idea, Buckaroo?" she says, her eyes narrowed, hands on her hips. "You often make a habit of creeping on girls in the tech room?"

 

"I, ah. No? I mean, you're the, um. You're the only girl who's ever in the tech room, so-"

 

Darcy smiles as she leans down, picks up her notepad, and then steps closer to him.

 

"Oh, so I'm special then?"

 

He shrugs, looking up speculatively, as if searching for an idea. "Well, no, not really." Her eyebrows raise, her lips twitching upward, and he realizes his mistake. He feels himself flush, and he grips the folder tighter in one hand, gesturing with the other as he takes a step closer to her. "I mean. You are special, just. Darcy-"

 

She laughs then, and it's low and honest, full of joy, and Bucky stops speaking, biting his lip again as she leans her head to the side slightly, looking at him through eyes half-closed with laughter.

 

"'s okay, Buckster," she says, moving forward finally, tapping him on the chest. "I know what you meant. And since it's the Christmas season, and you're so cute when you're fumbling over your words, I think I'll let you off the hook."

 

Bucky grins widely, looking down at Darcy fondly. He doesn't quite know what to say, and for some reason she's always made him feel out of his element, and his false bravado and confidence means nothing when she's in the room, and.

 

"You alright there?"

 

"Yeah," he says, smothering his grin. "I'm fine."

 

They look at each other for a moment more, and Bucky finally decides that the moment is awkward and Darcy's too close to tasing him, so he steps back. "Should probably go," he says, and she nods, going back to the tech on the table, completely ignoring him now, focused on her work.

 

"Hey, Darcy?" he asks, turning back at the door, his hand on the knob. She looks up, adjusting her glasses again.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"You doing anything later?"

 

Darcy shakes her head, smiling slightly at him. He opens his mouth to say something, furrows his brow, and stops. She looks at him expectantly, tapping her pen against the desk.

 

"I just," he says, still fumbling, and simultaneously hating and loving that she can do this to him. "If you want, maybe we can-"

 

"Meet me in front of the mansion at eight-thirty sharp, Buckaroo," she interrupts, turning back to her work, smiling archly. "I know a place that serves the best pie and hot chocolate in the whole city."

 

"Great," he replies, nodding, pretty sure his smile is taking over his whole face. "That's great."

 

She makes a vague shooing motion with her hand, waving him out of the tech room, and he steps out, closing the door quietly behind him.

 

He hears her continue singing as he walks away, back to the third floor where Steve is waiting, and he can't help grinning. He doesn't stop until Steve makes a comment about having a certain spring in his step and how he looks like an idiot, but Bucky just shoves him playfully, too excited about seeing Darcy later to care all that much.


	2. Bucky/Steve

"Um, Steve? You do know what you're standing under, right?"

Steve looked up, frowning in chagrin as he saw what Bucky had attached to the top of the doorframe in their apartment. It was green, and had berries on it, and a soft twist of ribbon with a tiny bell.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he said sourly, eyeing Bucky suspiciously.

"Me?" Bucky asked, aghast. He feigned offense, putting his hands on his chest in incredulity. "Me? I would never do such a thing. How dare you, Steve, after everything we've been through together-"

"You're the only one who could've done it, you jerk," Steve replied, nodding his head at Bucky, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Someone could have snuck in, I s'pose," Bucky muttered, shifting awkwardly to lean against the doorjamb. "I mean, maybe someone's been watchin' us, right, and they think they'll pull a right little prank before they swindle our whole apartment and all our belongings right out from under us..."

Steve laughed despite himself. "Yeah, 'cause I'm sure someone cares enough about a scrawny, sick kid like me, or a loudmouth like you, to do that. 'Sides, we don't have anything worth stealing."

"Probably steal you," Bucky said, lips twitching. "You're the only good thing about this shithole."

He blushed, then, and pretended that he didn't notice the fond look in his best friend's eyes as the color dusted over his cheeks.

"C'mon, Buck, can we just get this over with?"

"Can't rush art," Bucky murmured, stepping closer to him under the sprig of holly.

Steve made a derisive noise in the back of his throat but Bucky chose just that moment to wind his arm around Steve's waist, pulling him gently closer so that the two of them were pressed firmly together. He gave a surprised gasp at being so close to Bucky; sure, they'd grown up together, and they shared a bed together, had for years, but this was different. They were older, and this was more intimate than just sharing a bed for convenience and warmth. This wasn't just some idle arm slung around shoulders or a hand for support.

This was...

Steve's train of thought was derailed when Bucky cupped a hand around the back of his neck and tilted his head upward, until their eyes met and Steve realized that if there was a perfect angle for kissing, he was at it, right then.

Bucky's tongue flicked out and wet his bottom lip as he looked down at Steve speculatively, as if wondering just how far he could go in this game without going too far.

"C'mon, Buck," Steve repeated finally, slightly breathless, and he knew it wasn't because of his asthma.

"Yeah, alright," Bucky said, nodding slightly. "Okay."

He leant down and brushed his lips against Steve's, tentative at first, but when Steve's lithe fingers fisted in the material of Bucky's blue jacket, tugging him closer, the kiss changed from hesitant to almost bruising, passionate and sure.

It was if a dam had been built up around Bucky, and with the smallest assurance from Steve, something in the middle of it broke, and everything came rushing out. Bucky licked his way into Steve's mouth, his hand coming up to fist itself in blonde hair, and Steve let out a soft moan that was promptly swallowed by his friend.

When they finally parted, it was dark outside, and the fire in the wood stove had been reduced to embers. The streetlights added a dim ambience to the kitchen, and Steve could see snowflakes swirling on the air outside.

"So," Bucky said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

"I hope that's not how you kiss everyone you find under the mistletoe," Steve joked, his lips curving up in a smile.

Bucky shook his head, muttered something about Steve being a punk, and slid him into a headlock, ruffling his hair as Steve struggled futilely to get out of his grip.

Some things change, but some things will always stay the same.


	3. Loki/Steve

Loki looked down at the plate of cookies with an expression of mild distaste and not a little confusion.

"But why?"

Steve grinned as he turned off the oven. He had to admit, one of his favorite parts of this first Christmas with the Avengers was how fun it was teaching the gods about the traditions. Thor was in Asgard, and it was looking less and less likely that he'd come back, but Loki and Sif were still here, and Steve liked spending time with Loki, liked being close to him, even if part of him thought it rather odd.

"It's a tradition."

"But it makes no sense," Loki insisted, picking up a cookie and taking a bite. "Why make cookies and leave out milk for a man that doesn't exist?"

Steve looked at the god of mischief fondly as he set down the glass of milk next to the plate of cookies.

"Because, Loki. We do things in the spirit of believing. The hope that somewhere, there is some kindness, some joy, that is untouched by a world so fraught with strife. That's what Santa represents, Loki. Hope, and joy, and innocence. And we leave out cookies and milk because that's what he likes best, and when someone like Santa-or even what the idea of Santa represents-gives you something, you should at least give a little something in return."

He shrugged, sitting down at the table, and reached for the plate of cookies. "I know sometimes mortal customs puzzle you, but this-surely you must understand this."

Loki's hand closed over his skin, thumb brushing against the inside of his wrist. Steve raised his eyes to meet the gods, and felt frozen in his seat; he couldn't look away, and the moment seemed endless, achingly long, and as if Loki was looking into his very soul, weighing, measuring.

"I understand," Loki said at length, "seeing something good-so good you can't believe it-and wanting to do all you can to be worthy of it."

Steve swallowed, withdrawing his hand from Loki's grasp, grateful and yet at the same time, missing the coolness of the lithe fingers on his pulse.

"Sit down, then," he said quietly, "and eat some cookies with me."

Loki looked at him evenly for a moment, then out the window, to where the snow was swirling down faster and faster with every moment. The mansion was quiet except for the two of them, with all of the other Avengers in bed, getting sleep in preparation for tomorrow. The first Avengers Christmas... Steve and Bucky had come back late from a trip that Steve had organized as a Christmas present, but he'd insisted on doing this one little thing before he went to bed.

Loki was sure that Bucky was waiting up for the Captain, or at least attempting to, but he was a god, after all, and he was allowed to be selfish. He'd never known anyone like Steve, and he was becoming fast certain that there was no one else like him, so good and pure and nice.

"Alright," he replied, easing out a chair and sitting down. Steve smiled warmly at him, nodded to the plate of cookies, and leaned back in his own chair. He started talking then of Christmases in his childhood, the few he remembered with his mother and the many he spent with Bucky. Loki listened, occasionally smiling or laughing, but his attention was focused on Steve, and the time passed quickly until the plate of cookies was nothing but crumbs, and the soft strains of holiday music coming out of the radio were nothing but background noise, the snow swirling down around the mansion, meaning nothing at all to the two men in the kitchen.


	4. Clint/Natasha

It's Christmas morning, and you can already hear the rest of the mansion stirring. Sophie scampers down the stairs outside of your room, and Bucky and Steve follow, alternately laughing and speaking softly to each other.

Darcy and Coulson follow, and you hear a soft electrical charge, and know that they got each other tasers, which isn't going to go so well for anyone. You feel the air change slightly when Loki and Sif pass your room after coming up from the basement, and the soft mewling of the kittens following them simultaneously hails the arrival of Peter and Bruce, who are also laughing, and-at least it sounds like-shoving each other playfully as they stumble sleepily to the living room.

You grin slightly, thinking about how this is your family, about how happy you are to be here and grateful that you have it, and look over at Natasha. Her wide-awake eyes slide away from the door to meet yours easily, and she's smiling.

"What's this for?" you say, reaching over to brush a thumb over her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lick your finger playfully, and she scrunches her nose at you as you laugh.

"Steve," she says softly. "I'm just so glad he's happy. He deserves it, maybe more than most."

"Not more than you," you reply, shifting over in the bed so that you're lying on top of her. You scoot down in the bed a little, press a kiss to the smooth skin below her breasts. She leans up on her elbows slightly and looks down at you from between the soft swell, and her hand comes up to your hair, caressing softly.

"Whatever you say, hotshot."

Gifts can wait, you decide, gifts and friends alike. They'll be there in a few minutes, or a few hours. That doesn't matter. What matters now is the moments you spend with Natasha, and when she flips the two of you over so that she's on top, smiles down at you with satisfaction, and leans down to lick a stripe up your throat, you find that you don't really care all that much.

It's Christmas day, and you love this woman, and everything has fallen into place.


	5. Steve/Tony

"A man and his money are never parted-"

Steve rolls his eyes, which is a look that Tony finds absolutely endearing in that Steve never-or hardly ever-expresses anything other than genuine emotion, and sarcasm is so...not his style.

"You parted with enough of it today."

Tony scoffs. "Because you made me."

"Oh, don't be like that. You're just like your father. No one can make you do anything that you don't want to do already, which means that you did want to donate that money."

Steve shrugs agreeably, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and turning to lean against the worktable. He'd tried to convince Tony not to work late, to at least leave ten minutes beforehand so that he could get dressed like a human being in a bedroom, or a bathroom, but no. So here they were, in Tony's workshop, getting dressed to the nines for a Christmas charity ball that was actually Steve's fault anyway.

"I only donated that money because you pouted at me and told me how miserable Christmas is as an orphan-"

"Which is pretty miserable," Steve interjects.

"Please, you had Bucky, and you know you were happy."

"So?"

Tony laughs, adjusting his cufflinks in the reflection of his computer screen. When he finishes, he turns around, grinning delightedly at the man out of time.

"So, Captain, your heart's too damn big for your own good."

"What'd you mean?"

"I mean that you dragged me to a soup kitchen to not only donate thousands of dollars to buy food but also to serve that food. You persuaded me to donate millions to children's charities, to go visit sick wards in our costumes-uniforms-to make these kids have a happy Christmas, and now to go to this charity event."

Steve grins, and a slight blush raced across his cheeks. He moves to stand close to Tony, wraps his arms around his waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Tony can feel the smile on his skin, and revels in the small feeling of pleasure it gives him, that Steve Rogers was holding him like this and smiling because of something he said.

"But it's Christmas, Tony."

Tony sighs and tilts his head to kiss Steve on the cheek. "Yeah, well. I have a reputation to upkeep, so."

Steve laughs. "Your heart will remain our little secret."


	6. Steve/Natasha

Steve had thought about what it might be like to kiss the Black Widow, but those thoughts never lasted for long. She was his friend, he told himself, one of his best. Darcy had once used the term 'bromance' and though he didn't quite understand the sentiment, he supposed it must be true. Natasha was beautiful, smart, and brave, not to mention skilled, and the fact that he thought she might actually kill him if he looked at or touched her the wrong way. At the very least she would seriously hurt him; even though he was a super soldier, he never doubted her capabilities. She knew him too well, knew exactly where to hit to make it hurt.

He swallowed, and stopped that train of his thought, instead focusing on the woman in front of him.

 

Natasha was wearing a green dress that clung to her every curve, and left just the right amount to imagination. She looked transcendent, and her hair was pinned up with just a few tendrils trailing the back of her neck-the way that Steve liked her hair best, though he liked it in any form.

"I've seen you looking at me," she said matter-of-factly, a small smile playing at her lips.

Steve couldn't stop himself from looking around the library for an escape. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly when he noticed there wasn't one, and flushed a little when he noticed that her smile had gotten bigger as she watched him.

"Um, I-I'm sorry, Natasha, it won't happen again, really-"

She laughed then, and he froze, not exactly sure what to do.

"You really are the sweetest thing, Captain Rogers," she murmured, stepping closer to him. For every step she took forward, Steve took one back, until his legs hit the back of the sofa and he fell back on it, sprawling slightly. He tried to straighten himself up, but Natasha was there in an instant, one hand pushing him back down to the couch while she pulled up her dress slightly so she could straddle him gently.

He let out a surprised gasp.

"I like the way you look at me," she whispered, leaning in close so that her lips were just brushing his ear. "I think about it all the time. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and try to look even more beautiful than normal, just to catch your eye. How do you think I knew you liked my hair this way best, if not for that?"

"Natasha, I-"

She rolled her hips slightly, reaching up with her free hand to card lightly into his hair. He looked up into her eyes and was instantly drawn in.

"I know you're going to say something about how it's wrong and it's bad and we shouldn't, that we're a team and any relationships thereof will be a danger to our mission and the others, but I know you want it." Her lips pressed a kiss to the skin just below his ear. "I want it too."

Steve furrowed his brow, shifting under her slightly, subconsciously letting his hands come up and rest lightly on her hips. He knew that she was right; he did want this, had wanted it for a while, but there was only so much he could do. He cared about her a great deal, admired her even, and he wanted to show her how extraordinary and full of love she was, but she was also right in that it probably wasn't the best thing for the team.

"I'm not saying I don't want it," he said at length, "but with the arrival of the Skrulls, how are we supposed to...I don't know. Our focus should be on the team, on our missions, and..."

Natasha sighed above him, scooting forward just a little to press even closer.

"Just one kiss, Steve. Just one."

"Tasha-"

One of her arms lifted. "Besides," she said, "it's Christmas Eve. Think of it as a dare, an early present, a tradition. I don't care. If you can kiss me and not have it mean anything, then we'll call it even and never talk about it again." She looked upward pointedly. His eyes followed hers and saw the mistletoe she was hanging over his head. Against his better judgment, Steve's mouth curved upward in a smile.

"Deal?"

His eyes flicked back to hers and he sighed, nodded. The pleased Chesire grin on her face was enough to assuage any of the doubts he had. He nodded, and she lowered her head slowly, leaning down until she could brush her lips against his. He didn't respond for the barest of moments, and he could feel her about to pull away, so he wound his arms around her waist, fingers splayed on either side of her spine, and returned the kiss earnestly.

Though she had hoped for a response so passionate, she had only expected him to respond barely if at all; the kiss was only supposed to last a moment, and just to prove a point, but it lasted until the sun had lowered, the fire was merely embers, and they were both flushed and gasping for breath. It was a fitting beginning to a new start, if either of them could say so.

And...If it had been a bet, the kiss beneath the mistletoe, then Natasha would have won.


	7. Bucky/Steve

The air around them was rife with laughter and groans, the sounds of snowballs hitting jackets and skin and trees, shouted challenges and trash-talking about aim or snowball design, but that didn't matter all that much to Steve and Bucky, who were at that very moment laying on the cold ground, underneath an igloo that Bucky had made the day before with Peter and Darcy.

Earlier, of course, they had participated in the snowball fight, which incorporated not only the Avengers but also their friends, like Darcy and Jane, even Coulson and Fury, although Coulson had gone out early after attempting to tase Peter and Bruce had gone out after hitting Fury in his good eye while trying to hit Coulson in retaliation.

 

The two of them had snuck away to the backyard and the igloo after Loki had decided things would be much more interesting if magic were involved. Bucky'd used that as an excuse as he whispered his plan to Steve, but really, he just wanted his hands on his boyfriend, which no one would begrudge him.

Hell, even he didn't feel ashamed. He was dating Captain America, for god's sake, and he was allowed to get overcome with lust on occasion.

Bucky shifted so that he could lay atop Steve, pressed against him in all the best sorts of ways. He grinned when Steve pulled him down by his scarf to kiss him softly, smiling against his mouth, rolling his hips, writhing slightly, until Steve groaned softly and pulled back.

The look on his face was something akin to fondness and mild frustration, and Bucky disregarded the latter because he knew that all it meant was that Steve was impatient, but not impatient enough to not find somewhere decent for the two of them to get down to it.

"What was that you mentioned earlier, about not liking snow?" Bucky teased, biting his bottom lip and smiling, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Didn't say I didn't like snow. Just the cold," Steve groused, his arms winding around Bucky's waist, anchoring him.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "If it weren't for the snow, we wouldn't be here. Wouldn't have had the chance to do this."

Steve sighed. "I know. I'm grateful for it, but that doesn't have to mean that I have to like it. In case you don't remember, I wasn't always Captain America. I would get sick at the drop of a hat, and it was even worse in winter, when it was cold out."

"I remember," Bucky murmured, leaning down to bury his face in the crook of Steve's neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin. "I remember all too well."

"We don't have to worry about that anymore, though," Steve said, rolling the two of them over so that he was lying on top of Bucky. He pushed his scarf aside so that he could suck a bruise onto his pulse. "We're here, we're alive, and we're together. That's all that matters."

Bucky murmured his assent, pulling his scarf off all the way so that Steve could have better access.

Strangely enough, no one noticed that the two of them were missing, or at least, no one said anything until they returned to the house hours later, looking slightly rumpled and damp from the melting snow, stamping their feet on the floormat in their boots. And even then, as they shrugged off their coats and gloves, all they got were a few raised eyebrows and a generous wink sent in Steve's direction from Natasha.


	8. Peter/Bruce

"It's all fun and games until you kiss the wrong person underneath the mistletoe," Peter groused, pushing his cereal around rather aggressively in the bowl with his spoon. The sun was filtering in through the curtains, a cold white light that was rather harsh when first looked upon. The other inhabitants of the mansion were either up and about, gone already, or still in bed (Peter rather accurately thought that Bucky and Steve were among the latter.)

His birthday was last night, the dinner that had been Steve's idea and that Bruce had helped with, and it had been a really nice time. All of the Avengers were there, and all of their friends, except for Thor and Jane, although he did find a nice package from the Norse god at his bedroom door this morning when he woke. The evening had gone off without a hitch, at least until the hitch hit.

 

That hitch, of course, being that Clint had put up some mistletoe in the hall and Peter got caught underneath it with Gwen.

It had been funny, and neither of them had minded, and it was a sweet and okay an admittedly slightly more than chaste kiss, but it didn't mean anything.

Unluckily enough, though, Bruce had seen, and either gotten the wrong idea or just got insanely jealous, and left the party early. He'd carried on with the others for the rest of the evening, because it would have been rude not to, and Aunt May raised him better than that, but that didn't stop him from worrying about Bruce, about whether the two of them would be okay.

He whispered an explanation to Bruce when he went back to bed, and he knew that the older man was just feigning sleep, but that didn't warm him enough to talk to Peter. He went to bed miserable, and all-in-all thought that it was a horrid end to his birthday, and not at all the evening he'd been hoping for, or frankly, expecting.

Steve and Bucky were leaving today, for Steve had confided in him earlier that he had planned a five-day trip for the both of them as a Christmas surprise, which Peter thought was exceptionally adorable and only proved that Steve was one of the nicest and sweetest people around. It also made him sad, because for some reason it made him think about how good of couple the two of them were, and how little they seemed to fight (but then again, what happened behind closed doors was a mystery to Peter), and how much it pained him that Bruce was angry at him.

"Hey, Peter."

He looked up and saw a pretty sheepish looking Bruce standing in the doorway, holding something behind his back. His brow settled in a strange mixture of worry, frustration, and apprehension, and Bruce stepped further into the kitchen, looking nervous.

"Hi."

Bruce looked down as he approached Peter, his brow furrowed and biting his lip just a little. Peter still couldn't see what it was that he held behind his back.

"I'm sorry, about yesterday," the older man began suddenly. "I was jealous and it was stupid because I know you and Gwen are just friends and that you love me, and it was just mistletoe. I'm really, really sorry, Peter. I just don't like the thought of you with anyone else, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should've talked to you about it."

Peter listened and began nodding and smiling warmly at Bruce's words. All he'd really needed was an apology, and he knew that he was wrong to think it was his fault, but it still hadn't prevented him from thinking like that.

"I get it, Bruce, really I do. I get jealous sometimes when I see you and Betty together. I don't like the thought of you with anyone else, either, but-I mean, it's-well. It's a little bit different because you and Betty were together for a while..." He sighed and carded his fingers through his hair, still out of control with bedhead. "I just...I understand."

He looked up at Bruce, smiling reassuringly, and was rewarded with a smile of his own.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Bruce."

"Great," the scientists said with another smile, pulling a box out from behind his back. "Got this for you by way of an apology."

"Words and action," Peter teased, taking the package into his hands eagerly, fingers toying at the wrapping paper. "Is it okay if I open it now, or do you want me to wait until Christmas, or-"

Bruce slid his hands into his pants pockets and nodded his head at the package. "Just open it, Peter."

And Peter did; his fingers made easy work of the hasty wrap job, tossing the paper on the counter, one small piece landing in his cereal bowl. He grinned when he opened it and saw what was inside--a picture of him and Bruce playing with Loki and Sif's kittens, both of them looking at the camera and smiling widely, and underneath, a cooking apron.

Peter blushed at that, remembering the terms of Bruce's condition with him, when they were in the supermarket in the earliest hours of the morning, buying ingredients for the gifts he was baking everyone.

Bruce stepped closer, used his hands to cup Peter's face in his hands, smiling teasingly.

"Ah, I see you remember our bet."

"How could I forget?" Peter replied, tilting his head up slightly to smile at his boyfriend.

Bruce pressed their foreheads together and looked deep into Peter's eyes. "So, we're okay?"

He leaned up slightly to press a kiss to the corner of Bruce's mouth. "Always okay."


End file.
